Pride and More Pride
by Iliak
Summary: Hitting it off is sometimes a little more involved than you might think. Autor/Pique, post-series, one shot.


A/N: This was done as a secret santa gift for KatChan00. If you happen to track the Princess Tutu tag on tumblr, you may have already seen it, as that's where I initially posted it. This was my first foray into Autor/Pique, so I hope it turned out all right!

* * *

><p>"Oh, so it's... you, huh?" The girl didn't seem disappointed or even unhappy, but it was apparent that she wasn't thrilled either. She let out a laugh that just managed to escape awkwardness with its boldness. "I mean, I've seen you around lots of times, but I didn't know your name."<p>

Hand hovering beside the door to his locker, Autor just stared at the random girl who had started talking to him. "... Do you need something?"

This time, she did look a little awkward as she laughed, shoving a lock of bright hair out of her face. "Well, I was going to deliver this." She held up a small rectangular package wrapped in bright paper. "But I guess I ruined the surprise. The reveal isn't until tomorrow."

Even before she lifted it up to show him, Autor had spotted the package in her arms and realization was dawning on him. "It was you..." He dug through his pockets to pull out a red and green braided bracelet and hold it out accusingly. "_You_ left this!"

"Yeah, it was me." She said it frankly, not seeming like she was either embarrassed or teasing him, but it was unbearable all the same because she just _kept going blithely on_. "To tell the truth, if I'd known it was you, I would've got you different stuff. I thought it was kinda weird for a guy to want things like that anyway. I mean, aside from _Femio_, I don't know any who'd admit to it. I never would have thought you'd be into that kind of stuff."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Autor snapped, "and I don't know who you are, and I don't care. Stop this at once!" Turning on his heel he threw down the stupid bracelet and strode away briskly, an angry blush on his cheeks.

For a brief, blissful moment, he thought she was going to let him go. But she quickly shattered that delusion. "Hey! Where are you going?" And then there was the sound of feet hitting the pavement in rapid succession, getting louder.

Something hard and rectangular was shoved in between his shoulder blades. Autor stumbled forward before he turned around, looking positively incensed. "What's the matter with you?"

But the glare she gave him made him want to shrink back and hide. "What's your problem? You shouldn't turn down gifts, especially from girls! I made that bracelet by hand, you know! If you don't like it, it's not my fault what you wrote down on the Secret Santa form!"

Autor took a step back, holding up his hands defensively, though he gave her a glare of his own. "I didn't sign up for that nonsense! You've got obviously the wrong person."

The girl put her hands on her hips, balancing the gift box between one hip and one hand. "There's nobody else named Autor using your locker, is there? What happened, did you change your mind, or did you make someone mad enough to enter your name?"

Considering the two options the girl suggested, Autor was faced with the realization that one of them was probably right, and he knew which one. Blood rose into his face rapidly and his mouth twitched as he tried to think of a retort, a plausible way he could deny everything. "Just-just forget about all of this! I don't need anything from you." He turned away quickly again, walking quickly without a specific destination in mind. He'd forgotten where he intended to go in the first place, or the fact that he'd meant to get books out of his locker.

A hand tugged at his arm. "Hey-hey, come on, wait up!" He tried to shake it off, jerking away, but the girl only looped her arm around his and dug her heels into the ground, pulling him to a stop even as he tried to keep walking.

"What do you _want_?"

"You like old books, right?"

That made him turn his head to look at her. In doing so, he discovered that she wasn't glaring anymore. But she did pout when he stared and said, "What?"

"I always see you with stacks of them when I go to the library. You're _always_ there."

Autor tried to pull away again. "I don't see what-"

She shoved the package against his chest, and then released his arm. "Unwrap it. It's a book, but you won't like it, so take it to the antique books store. Tell them Pique said to exchange it for something."

He didn't have an answer for that. Pique huffed, looking aggravated as she ended with, "Merry Christmas to you _too_."

A good few minutes after she had walked away, Autor was still standing in the same place, looking back and forth between the brightly-wrapped gift in his hands and the last place he'd been able to see the girl before she flounced off around the corner of a building.

The day of the Secret Santa reveal, Pique stared at the bespectacled boy standing beside her locker with a book tucked under his arm. "What are you doing here? How did you even _find_ my locker?"

Autor pushed his glasses up his nose. "I can find out things whenever I need to. Anyway, take this." He held out the book for her. "Women like romance novels, right?"

Pique was still staring. "What's all this about?"

He held out the old tome insistently. "It's a first edition, in excellent condition."

"That's not what I meant! I thought you didn't sign up for this, or whatever the problem was." She took the book, though, opening it to a random place in the middle and gazing curiously at the pages.

Autor shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at something off to the side. "Of course I didn't. I don't have any interest such nonsense. But I don't want to owe you anything."

Pique furrowed her brows. "That's not-"

He turned away, though not quite as quickly as he'd done the day before. So it was pretty easy for Pique to catch up with him and fall into stride next to him as he walked away. And Autor was sure he made it _entirely_ too easy for her to talk him into going to Ebine's for the Christmas special, but for one reason or another, he wasn't too disappointed in himself for giving in.


End file.
